The words faded on a paper unearthed from the files while we pack grabbed my soul.
“Grace, grace, grace for all.”
These words I seek to live, try to breath, and must accept.
Grace that grips my hand as one leads a lost child back to their parent.
Grace holding my hand like the visitor to the sick who comforts no matter the cost.
Grace who stands, tear soaked when others can’t take it anymore.
The words are old, and they taste strange in my mouth, but my heart knows that we are all gripped by GRACE.